


The Lord and the Sea Wolf

by planiforidjit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A lot of sex, Adventure, Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Dirty Talk, Historical, Knotting, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Derek Hale, Pirates, Possessive Stiles Stilinski, Praise Kink, Rimming, Scent Marking, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, bodice ripper, oh god so much dirty talk, so much sex, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-07-23 23:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planiforidjit/pseuds/planiforidjit
Summary: All Stiles wants to do is live a life away from his responsibilities as the only son of an Earl in a colony in Atlantic Canada. When he’s unexpectedly betrothed to Jackson Whittemore, the omega son of a prominent Marquess, Stiles flees in the middle of the night on a stolen boat. Unable to sail himself, Stiles is rescued from his sinking boat by the infamous pirate, The Sea Wolf, who looks suspiciously familiar…





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here’s the deal. I don’t know where this is going or what’s going to happen with it, but I wanted to write a bodice ripper with pirates and lots of sex because I just read Kidnapped by the Pirate by Keira Andrews and I fucking loved it. And I just really love Cat Sebastian so I wanted to combine my two loves into a sexy pirate romp (not that much of a romp, there will be tears probably). And because I have no self control. 
> 
> So anyway, this is going to update whenever, maybe in the middle of me working on that other fic I’m still writing. Maybe it will be long and maybe it’ll be short, but tbh I don’t know. 
> 
> I’m also using this to flesh out some ideas for a novel that I’m working on so like idk tell me your feelings, tell me how you feel about the world building and werewolf stuff (my novel is not going to be a/b/o like this puppy is so feel free to tell me how you feel about that, but it’s not going to go in the book).

Derek is woken too early in the morning by his sister. Laura jumps on the side of his bed and he startles awake.

“Lady Claudia is here,” she says, practically shaking with excitement. “She brought the baby.”

“I don’t want to see a baby,” Derek says, flipping over and burying his head in his pillow.

He knows what the baby means. Work. Lady Claudia gave birth in England, unable to make her way to Beacon Island in her pregnant state. And now that she’s here the baby needs to be taken care of, Lady Claudia needs to be taken care of and that’s what the Hales do.

Derek was born here, as were his sisters, and his parents, all of the Hales and some other weres they’ve brought into their pack over the centuries. They’re the pack that had the island to begin with. Before the French came and then the English. And now they worked for their invaders, guards and military. Protecting them and the rest of the island from other potential invaders.

Even at eight years old Derek knew that there was something wrong about it. They were paid and lived in the manor alongside the humans and Derek spent his time being tutored and trained to fight and guard the house.

But he never really understood why they worked for the humans, why the humans had control over the island. They ruined their paradise, building a small city and a few little towns all over the island. Even the farms take up too much space.  

He doesn’t know why his mother always seems so happy to serve them or why it is so important that he come meet the baby when it’s so early in the morning that the sun hasn’t risen.

Derek dresses in the fine clothes he always wears when working in the home of Lord Stilinski, a waistcoat, stockings that refuse to stay up, shiny black shoes with a gold buckle. It is important that they always look presentable. Never like wild animals.

Derek meets Laura in the hallway and they follow the sounds of shrieks and their mother’s voice.

When they enter the drawing room Lord Stilinski is standing behind Claudia, who’s lounging on the couch, looking worn out, but happy. They both have pride and Derek’s mother is holding the shrieking baby in her arms, cooing at it and touching the pointed little nose with her finger. It looks too big and somehow still too skinny. It smells like spoiled milk and sweets and Derek does not like it.

When Cora was born last year she didn’t smell like this baby. She smelled like pack. Like she belonged right away. This thing smells foreign.

Derek and Laura hesitate in the doorway. Claudia smiles at them, waves her hands for them to come inside.

They manage to remember a bow and curtsy in the doorway and Claudia laughs at them.

“You don’t have to bow for me.”

“We’re trying to build good habits,” Talia says without looking up from the baby.

“Well, you don’t have to do any of that when it’s just the family,” Claudia says with a little shake. “It makes me so uncomfortable.”

She kicks out a leg and Derek looks down at the ground so he doesn’t laugh right at her.

Lord Stilinski shakes his head. “Let’s hope Mieczyslaw is better behaved than you are, my dear.”

“Let’s hope that he’s exactly as badly behaved as I am,” she says with a tired grin.

“ _Mieczyslaw_ ,” Laura says, shocked.

“It’s a horrible name,” says Claudia. “There’s no way he’ll be able to pronounce it. But we had to name him after John’s grandfather. He already looks exactly like him.”

“Grandfather was called Stiles when he was too young to say his own name,” Lord Stilinski says. He nods at Derek. “You can call him Stiles.”

“Would you like to hold him?” Talia asks Derek. “It’ll be your duty to look after him.”

“I don’t want him,” Derek says, frowning and Claudia laughs loudly. “He’s too small.”

“Not until he can walk,” Claudia says.

“You’re going to be charged with looking after him,” says Lord Stilinski. “Making sure he goes to his lessons, keeping him safe, accompanying him where we can’t.”

“ _And_ ,” Claudia says. “Most importantly, you’ll be his friend. And he’ll be yours.”

“Here,” Talia says, easing the wiggling thing into Derek’s arms.

They stare at each other. The baby’s big brown eyes bore into Derek’s. He scrunches up his face and babbles at Derek. When Derek scowls at him he just laughs and reaches up to tug at Derek’s nose.

“He likes you!” Claudia shouts, delighted.

Derek frowns. “I guess I like him too.”

“You’re the most serious eight-year-old I’ve ever met,” Claudia says. “I think you two will have a lot of fun together.”

Talia leans down and kisses Derek on the head. She whispers too quietly for the humans to hear.

“You have to take good care of him, Derek. One day, I think, he’ll take very good care of you.”

Derek looks down at the baby. He doesn’t really know what his mother means by that, but can’t imagine this little thing ever being able to do anything for him.

Derek tries to the smile at it and it burps at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Eighteen Years Later**  

Stiles watches from the shadows as four werewolves are marched through the courtyard, shackled to each other with silver, their silver bracelets blazing on their wrists. As they pass Stiles shields his head from the rain and sprints across the muddy yard to the doors to the grand house.

Stiles takes the back stairs to his father’s office two at a time, skirting around the weres who worked in the house, the few human servants carrying freshly laundered linens and floral smelling soaps for their guests from England. 

Heather, a pretty maid who wore her hair in ringlets stops Stiles just outside the door to his father’s office with a hand to his chest. Her touch is a constant reminder of the kiss they shared last Christmas. And her quick rejection the next day. 

“You know he’s in a meeting, my lord.” 

“Heather, I hate that you call me that.” 

She puts a hand on her hip. “What should I call you then? Lord Stiles, Earl of Devenford?” 

“Just call me Stiles.” 

“I’m not one of your family’s precious weres. I’m not calling you by your first name. Either way, you can’t go in there. He’s meeting with Argents.” 

Stiles shudders. The Argents are a family of hunters that rule all things supernatural in the colonies. They don’t like calling it a werewolf trade, but that’s what it is. They find rogue weres and take them to Stiles’s father or other authorities in the colonies, fit them with their bracelets, sell them off to houses or plantations if they don’t have someone to vouch for them in one of the few werewolf neighborhoods on the island, they kill those who don’t comply. 

The Argents are merciless and Stiles hates them. 

“I know he’s in a meeting,” says Stiles. “That’s why I’m here. I’m going to sit in. It’s going to be my job soon.” 

Stiles doesn’t want that job, but he also wants to know what the Argents are doing with the weres he saw down in the courtyard. 

Heather waves him off. “Fine. But this is your doing, not mine.” 

“Fair enough. Thank you, my love.” 

She just shakes her head and walks away from him. 

Stiles opens the door to his father’s office and his father looks up at him, face weary before giving him a small smile. 

“Gentleman, you know my son.” 

Two hunters, dressed in severe black sit in front of Stiles’ father, their wide-brimmed hats sitting on their laps. Their puritanical manner and dress were a bit of a joke among the aristocrats, but no one dared say anything to their faces. They could slip into your home in the middle of the night and kill you without anyone knowing until your body is discovered weeks later, washed up on shore. 

The older one, Christopher Argent, nods at Stiles once. His daughter, Allison, gives Stiles a kind smile, but remains silent. 

“My lord,” Chris says. 

Stiles nods back in response. The best thing to do with hunters is to refrain from speaking. He’s learned the hard way that they’ll take anything you say and use it against you. 

Chris and Allison are the best of a bad family. Stiles even likes Allison. But they still scare him. 

“The Argents were just leaving,” Stiles’s father says. “Parrish will pay you at the door.” 

“Thank you,” Chris says. 

Chris nods at Allison and they both stand. Allison brushes past Stiles and slips a piece of paper into his hand. He pockets it before either of their father’s notice.

“I hate working with them,” Stiles’s father says, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I know.”

Stiles hates that they work with the Argents, he hates that no matter what he says to his father about it that they can’t seem to stop it.

“I need to speak with you about something. Please shut the door, Stiles.” 

Stiles doesn’t sit after he closes the door. He knows his father’s face. He knows that he’s going to say something important, something big. 

“What is it?” Stiles asks. 

“I’ve been corresponding with the Whittemores.” 

Stiles scoffs. The Whittemores live on one of the newer colonies, purses fat from their sugar plantations and the sale of rum. They’re unbearable to be around even on their best days.  

Stiles went to primary school with their son, Jackson, until Jackson presented as an omega and was taken out for private tutoring. He hasn’t seen Jackson in years, but he imagines he’s still horrible. He’s heard things. 

Stiles’s father bites his lip. “Jackson will come stay with us for the winter, to celebrate Christmas with us.” 

Stiles thinks he knows where this is going, but he can’t believe it. Can’t believe what his father is suggesting. 

“He’ll stay through the spring, for his heat, and—”

“No.” Stiles puts up his hands. “No. I can’t. Are you—do you—”

“You don’t have a lot of say in the matter Stiles.” 

“You want me to mate with someone and you aren’t giving me a lot of say!” 

“You’ll get to spend time with him. If you truly hate each other, then you can call off the mating, but you have two months to get to know him.” 

“Why? Why would you do this to me?” 

“I—I loved your mother dearly, Stiles. But I was not thinking about you when I married someone from a family without a name or money. I was only thinking of myself. If you don’t marry someone titled, with a good family and money, we might lose the grip we have on this island.” 

“Would that be so bad? You hate it here. You hate what you do.” 

“Would you have someone else take over? Would you have our land given to the Argents? Who’s to say what they would do to our citizens, to the weres we’ve promised to protect?” 

“We’re protecting them by making decisions for them, letting them be enslaved. I saw the weres the hunters brought you. I’m not marrying someone to protect that.” 

“What do you think would happen to Scott if we left?” 

Stiles bites his lip. “Scott would come with us? And Melissa.”

“And what about everyone else? We tried to do things our way and we suffered for it.” 

Stiles shudders. He was young, eight years old, but he still remembers the screams, the smell, as the Hale house burned. 

The Hales suffered for the way the Stilinskis treated them. After Stiles’s father could no longer treat weres as equals, could no longer let them be people. Despite Claudia’s begging, the weres on Stilinski land were given the same strict rules as weres in the rest of the colonies. They were moved from their own houses to servants’ quarters, no longer allowed schooling, their wrists fitted with the silver bracelets meant to subdue and control them. Stiles’s father was worried they’d be taken away from him, sent somewhere else. 

Stiles knows there has to be a better way. He can’t marry someone to keep things the way they are. He has to do something. 

“I can’t marry Jackson.” 

Stiles’s father sighs. “I’m sure Lord Whittemore is a nice young man once you get to know him.” 

“You know that’s not true. You’ve met him. He’s horrible.” Stiles takes a deep, shaking breath. “This will—it’s the end of my life. What will I do? I’ll never fall in love? I’ll never have what you had?” 

Stiles’s father runs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t see a way around this. Look, eventually you’ll have children and you’ll be running the colony. You’ll be too busy to fall in love.” 

Stiles shakes his head. “I can’t.” 

“I’m sorry that things have to be this way, I truly am. But you must. There’s nothing else to be done.” 

Stiles backs toward the door. “I can’t,” he repeats. “I can’t do this.” 

“You have a month to get used to the idea.”

Stiles shakes his head. His hand finds the door handle and turns it, falls back into the hallway. 

And he runs. 

Stiles runs away from his father, out of the house, across the courtyard, and to the stables where Scott is reading a book that weres are absolutely not allowed to read in any other household.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asks, jumping up.

Stiles presses a hand to the center of his chest. He’s having a panic attack. The world is going fuzzy around the edges. Scott grabs his shoulders and Stiles feels the stress being leeched from him, black flowing down Scott’s arm. They realized early on, just after his mother died, that his panic attacks could be treated like pain. Scott could take it from him just like any were could take the ache of a sore back.

He sags against Scott and presses his forehead into his shoulder. Scott wraps his arms around him.

Weres and humans aren’t supposed to interact like this. But Scott has been Stiles’s best friend since before the rogue were bit Scott and he was relegated to work in the stables.

“What happened?”

“I have to go, Scotty.”

“Go where?”

“I don’t know. Away from here. Just for a little bit. I’ll come back. But I have to go.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Stiles nods. “My father is going to marry me off. To save this stupid place. And I can’t live like that.”

Scott hugs him tighter. “You’ll come back.”

“Yeah, of course. I have to come back. My father isn’t wrong. But I need to get away right now.”

“Okay,” Scott says. “I’ll help you.”

—

It shouldn’t be a surprise that just a couple of hours later Stiles found himself off the coast of the island, in a small dinghy, taking on water that’s a little too rough and far too cold. He thought maybe he could get to the next island, hop all the way down to Maine, but he’s barely out of sight of Beacon.

He sees a ship, close enough that he he stands up and starts to wave. 

“Help!” He screams. “Help!”

The ship doesn’t have a flag, but it’s not huge, a frigate with billowing white sails. It doesn’t matter. Stiles will take anyone at this point.

The ship comes closer and Stiles continues to shout and yell. Until it pulls closer to his capsizing vessel.

A ladder is thrown down from the tall ship and Stiles grabs for it, already shivering, soaked. He grasps for it and heaves himself up and over the side of the ship to…laughter?

He looks up and he knows that he’s made a mistake. This isn’t just a rescue ship, a random ship that picked him up.

It’s a pirate ship.

He’s surrounded by men, some more worse for wear than the others, some, like the stony-faced man in front of him, dressed impeccably. They’re werewolves. Stiles has been around them enough to know by the way they hold themselves, the energy they exude.

“Grab him,” the stony-faced were says.

A curly haired were grabs him, drags him up. Another one, wiry like Stiles, but short and nearly shaking grins at him, “What’s the captain going to do with him? What are we going to do with him?"

“We wait for the captain.”

The curly-haired were gets close to Stiles face. “Wonder what the Sea Wolf is going to think of you?”

Stiles’s blood runs cold.

Everyone knows about the Sea Wolf. They’ve heard stories of his ship and crew, laying down destruction wherever they go, undefeated by other pirates and any naval ship.

He’s going to die on this ship. If he’s lucky they’ll make it fast.

His pockets are turned out. Coins, buttons, pieces of yarn, and a folded up piece of paper fall to the ground. Stiles’s stomach sinks. He never gave the note to Scott and now he’s going to die. Scott will never know what it said.

The contents of Stiles pockets are picked up off the ground, the coins given to the stony-faced were, who Stiles is pretty sure must be some sort of commanding officer, ranked just below the captain. The note from Allison is pocketed and hidden away.

The murmuring crew go quiet and the curly haired were grabs the back of Stiles’s neck, forcing him to look at his bare feet and torn pants. Two hours into running away and he’s lost everything. He couldn’t even hold onto his shoes.

His thoughts are interrupted by feet stomping towards him, slowly and deliberately. He’s not allowed to look up, but a gruff voice asks, “What do we have here?”

Stiles is pushed, thrown down in front of two very large, leather boot-clad feet. The feet give way to strong calves, muscular thighs, a thin waist. He looks up a strong, broad chest, billowing red shirt open at the neck, to the man’s face. Stubbled, weather work, eyes hardened at Stiles. 

Stiles knows this man. 

The man’s eyes go wide for a fraction of a second, clearly recognizing Stiles as well. 

“Isaac,” the Sea Wolf snaps. “Take him to my room.”

Before Stiles can say anything he’s grabbed from behind and shoved towards two ornate doors. He turns as he’s shoved into a dark room. The Sea Wolf doesn’t look back at him, just barks something at his men that Stiles can’t hear.

The doors slam in his face and Stiles is left alone in the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You bet your ass this is turning into a Christmas story. Just you wait. There's going to be a goddamn ball later.

_Lord Stilinski_. 

It’s like a healing wound being ripped open anew.

Boyd hands Derek a folded scrap of paper. “This was in his pocket.”

Derek unfolds the note and almost crushes it again when he sees the family name emblazoned on the top of the paper.

_Midnight in the stables. A._

Derek always knew that the Stilinskis worked with the Argents. But after everything he doesn’t need the confirmation of their betrayal. He doesn’t need to know that the family that was supposed to protect him and his family fails to protect weres continuously.

Boyd doesn’t ask about the note. Derek is sure that Boyd already read it.

“What do we do?” Boyd asks.

As Derek’s quartermaster, Boyd speaks for Derek to the crew and to Derek for the crew. Boyd wants to know what the crew should know.

Derek holds the back of his neck, just for a moment, just to feel the pressure there, release some of the pressure building in his chest.

“Send Liam and Mason ashore to make the terms of my ransom clear to Stilinski.”

“What are the terms?”

“Twenty thousand pounds or we kill him." 

“He’ll send ships after us.”

“He might, but it’s getting colder, he might wait it out and pay the ransom for his only son. We’ll return in a month. In the meantime, we lay low and gather strength in Siren’s Port.”

Siren’s Port is a haven of sorts for pirates. It would take them five days of slow travel to get there, but it’s the only place they’ll be able to lay low with a hostage for two weeks while gathering their strength.

Boyd nods. “Got it. You’re going to—”

“I’m going to properly welcome our guest,” Derek says with his best leer.

Boyd shakes his head. He knows that Derek doesn’t mean it. Derek might be known as the Sea Wolf up and down the coast, striking fear into the hearts of anyone who sees his colors, but Boyd knows that he’s barely dangerous. His reputation does most of the work and his crew does the rest.

Yes, they’ve had to kill, had to fight and steal, but only to survive, only when they needed to.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door to his cabin. It’s bright, the curtains are opened and Stiles leans over his bed, peering out the window into the ocean. He doesn’t turn until Derek shuts the door. 

Stiles is—well there’s no getting around it—he’s handsome now. Broad shoulders, a cute nose, pouty, wide lips. When Derek last saw him he was a child. His limbs barely fit his body. His arms and legs and sometimes face were covered in scratches from falling and getting into trouble. Now Derek can see the muscular shape of his thighs through his damp pants, the taut skin of his forearms. 

“You shouldn’t be touching the Sea Wolf’s belongings,” Derek says, voice low and predatory. 

Stiles shrugs. “I was looking around. And you needed some natural light.” Derek doesn’t respond and Stiles gestures to the room. “So, is this what you became? A pirate who gets what he wants through theft and murder.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know a hell of a lot about the Sea Wolf. We all do. I never suspected he was you. I hoped—”

“What did you hope?”

“I hoped that you had gone on to something better. I don’t know. When you left—”

“I don’t think you’re remembering that right. Your father threw me out of his house,” Derek hisses, trying to hide the hurt that still sits in his chest. His banishment from the Stilinski house chips away at his heart the same way the death of his family does. 

“That is not true,” Stiles snaps. “You always had a place under our roof. You left us!” 

Anger boils up inside Derek, bubbles over. He can’t stop it. After all this time it’s still too raw.

He growls at Stiles. “He wouldn’t let me shift, wanted me to wear that same silver band as the rest of the weres, wanted me to present myself as an omega and a servant.” 

“You _are_ an omega.” 

Derek steps away from Stiles. He doesn’t understand. No Alpha would ever be able to understand.

“It doesn’t matter. That doesn’t mean I should declare it to the world. Especially when the world would do horrible things to me for it.” 

“Everyone knows that you’re a werewolf. My father was trying to give you an option.” 

“Your father was offering me slavery.” 

“Better him than someone else.” 

“Better no one.” 

“So you came here? Became a pirate?”

“I don’t need to explain this to you. You’re my prisoner.” 

“What are you going to do? Are you going to kill me?” 

Derek sneers. “I’m going to ransom you. Or kill you if we need to.”

“The second you even try to contact my father you’ll be arrested. All of your crew will be arrested, enslaved or hanged if you’re lucky. Do you really want that?” 

“Your father will do anything to protect you.” 

“He’s smarter than you are.” 

“He’s getting old. I’m going to send a human to him. Tell him where to meet me. It’ll be enough money for me to leave this place, sail across the ocean to the Caribbean where what I am isn’t illegal.” 

“You’ll still be a pirate. You’ll be hanged if you’re caught.” 

“I won’t be caught. And if your father tries anything I’ll kill you.” 

“You wouldn’t kill me.” 

“Try me.” Derek flicks out a claw and draws it along the soft skin of Stiles’s cheek. “And if you tell any member of my crew that I worked in your house or that I’m an omega I will tear your head off with my bare hands. Ransom or no.”

Stiles’s face goes steely, his eyes watering. “What do I do?”

“You sleep here.” Derek points to the spot on the floor by the chest of drawers that holds all of his clothes. “You stay in this room. If you leave I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll jump from the window.”

“We’re too far from shore. You’ll die before you even leave sight of the ship. But go ahead. I don’t care.”

Derek turns back to the door. “I’ll be back this evening. Don’t touch anything.”

He storms out of his cabin and snaps at Boyd to lock the doors behind him. He heads below deck.

Derek finds a quiet corner down in the pantry. The rest of the crew are getting them away from the island, hard at work. Isaac is hopefully guarding Stiles. Derek knew him as a child and he can’t be that different. Stiles would probably try anything to get away from him. 

He sinks down to the floor and tries as hard as he can to pull himself together and fails.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the thing, this is just going to be very slow going, but I'm kind of in a lull in personal stuff so I should have more time! Yay!

The fact of the matter is that when Stiles was nine years old, Derek was his whole world. Yes, he had Scott and his father and even his mother then, but Derek was everything. He followed Derek around the island, sat in on Derek’s lessons, followed him through the woods. Derek indulged him, spent as much time as he could letting Stiles ramble at him. But Derek was always distracted. Always watching out for Stiles, never really spending time with him. He knew Derek was secretly meeting a girl, he didn’t know for sure, but he was aware. There were signs. 

And then the laws changed. Weres were never equals, but it became worse. Any were without a human would be arrested or killed. Stiles knew I’m a base level that their lives would be different. 

It never occurred to him that things would be different with Derek, though. He adored Derek. He thought that maybe, if he stopped seeing the secret girl, once Stiles was old enough, maybe Derek would pay attention to him. Maybe Derek would actually want go spend time with him. Maybe Derek would want to spend the rest of his life with him. 

And then Derek’s family was murdered and he left, leaving Stiles all alone.

Their first full day together is rough. Derek makes Stiles sleep on the floor, which is nearly impossible. He isn’t sure how credible Derek’s death threats are, but he keeps the complaining to a minimum, so he doesn’t even get an extra pillow even though he knows Derek has plenty to spare. And Derek doesn’t talk to him, barely even looks at him. He spends most of the day out of the cabin leaving Stiles alone, going stir crazy.

But Isaac comes down to bring him food and water and a single glass of horrible wine and that’s not so bad. He’s not sure Isaac likes him, but he’s nice to talk to. He talks a hell of a lot more than Derek, even if sometimes he’s threatening Stiles.

Stiles is almost positive Isaac’s threats are empty.

On the second day Derek stays out of his cabin again. But he comes back with dinner for Stiles and sets two places at the ornately carved desk he uses.

“Sit,” Derek grunts, gesturing at the empty seat across from him.

Stiles doesn’t move. “Why?”

Derek sighs. “I’m trying to be nice.”

“You’ve kidnapped me so I don’t think you need to fake being nice.”

“I’m a fair captain.”

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, right.”

"Just because we've kidnapped you doesn't mean we're not fair." 

Stiles glares straight ahead, ignoring the smile that's playing on Derek's lips. “I was running away, Derek. You don’t even have to ransom me. He’ll give you the money to bring me back. There don’t have to be any threats.” 

Derek is silent for a while and Stiles has to assume he’s not listening to him.  

But then Derek says, “Why would you run away?”  

“I’m betrothed.”

“And that’s not what you want? A comfortable life?”

Stiles runs a hand over his face. “I had a comfortable life. Lord Whittmore is—”

“Whittmore?” Derek hums. “I’ve heard about him.”

“Yeah, well, he’s awful.”

“Why is your father allowing it if he’s so horrible?”

Stiles shrugs. “He’s an omega from a prominent family. I have to marry someone or everything we own will be forfeit to my cousins when I die and they are even more horrible.” 

“And this isn’t what you want? A good marriage and money?”

Stiles snorts. “No.”

Derek sighs. “Come sit at the table, Stiles.”

He sounds so soft and a little defeated and maybe like he pities Stiles a little. Stiles would hate it, but the food does smell good and he hates sitting on the floor and at least he’s gotten his point across.

Stiles stands, using the chest for support and he strolls over to Derek. “You know, I’ll need to bathe at some point.”

“You can bathe when we get to Siren’s Cove.”

Stiles reaches across the table and takes the chunk of bread and the extra bowl of stew, cooled now because he didn’t eat it right away. “When do we get to Siren’s Cove?”

“Two more days about, maybe a little more.”

Stiles nods. He dunks the bread in the stew and takes a large bite. He moans and Derek’s whole face goes red.

“What the—”

“This is so good,” Stiles says. “This is so much better than—have I not been allowed to eat what everyone else is eating?”

“You’ve been given special meals,” Derek says. “We couldn’t have a member of the peerage eating what the rest of us eat, could we?”

“I’m not really anything yet,” Stiles says. “And the colony is probably going to fail and go to the Argents so I don’t think there’s much we can do.”

Derek takes a sip from a flask. “The Argents?”

“Yeah, that’s part of the reason I need to marry Whittmore. The Argents will buy the land off my cousins if they take it from us and I—well, you know how awful they are.”

Derek nods. “I do.” He stands. “I have to go. Finish your food and go to sleep. I’ll see if I can send down some fresh water and soap to bathe with.”

Stiles blinks a few times. “Oh, all right.”

Derek turns away from Stiles and fixes his coat, the saber and pistols at his belt. Stiles watches the way he moves, muscles flexing even under the layers of fabric. He sucks in a breath.

“Why don’t you smell like an omega?” Stiles asks. Just because he’s human doesn’t mean he can’t smell an omega. He’s still an alpha. There are still mating instincts. Pheromones and whatever. 

Derek doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders tense, he looks down.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Stiles says. Then, “I’m not going to tell anyone. I promise. I get it.”

Derek shakes his head. “You don’t.”

—

Derek disappears for the rest of the evening and Stiles is stuck inside the cabin. Isaac sends down a sliver of soap and a jug of fresh water so Stiles can bathe. It’s awkward, stripping down to nothing in the middle of Derek’s cabin. Derek’s gone, but Stiles can help trying to breathe in the scent of him as he rubs the soap over his body, washes it away with lukewarm water.

What would Derek do if he came in here and found Stiles naked and bathing. Everyone knows those stories, the pirates taking the young woman on his ship, ravishing her.

Stiles wouldn’t mind being ravished by Derek, he wouldn’t mind doing some ravishing himself. If no one knows Derek is an omega he must keep to himself. Maybe he doesn’t want to sleep with anyone, but it’s more to imagine him pent up. Coming in and finding Stiles naked and bathing, freezing in the doorway.

Stiles’s hand travels to his stirring cock—he’d have thought the fear would keep him from getting hard, but maybe dinner with Derek eased things—and he imagines Derek shutting the door behind himself. Stiles would drop to his knees in front of him. There’s no way Derek would bend over, present himself to someone like Stiles. But maybe Stiles could ease him into it, suck his cock until he’s begging for it, turn him around and press his tongue into his hole.

Stiles whimpers and presses his hand to his mouth to cover the sounds coming from him. He’s on a werewolf filled boat and they’re bound to hear anything he lets slip.

What would Derek do if he came in now? Would he watch? Would he let Stiles’ finish himself and then demand he do the same for Derek? Would he join in?

It doesn’t take long, imagining the way Derek’s lips might part on a moan if Stiles could just get a hand around his cock. Stiles comes on a whimper and Derek’s name and he washes away the evidence.

He pulls his clothes back on and sits in his corner, eventually letting the movement of the ship rock him to sleep.

—

He’s woken abruptly, not long after he drifted off, by shouts above him, the sound of pounding feet. He scrambles up and to the window at Derek’s bed to see what there is to see.

There’s light—another ship! They could be here to rescue Stiles, take him home, and even though that isn’t exactly what he wants, he wouldn’t mind not sleeping on a floor anymore. He wouldn’t hate to have a bed with a pillow.

But the ship swings around and it’s not a ship from the queen’s navy, it’s not even someone’s private vessel. The skeleton stitched on the ships flag, rising up towards the sky tells Stiles exactly what this ship is here to do.

The door to the cabin bursts open and Derek hurries inside without bothering to shut it. He grabs Stiles by the collar and throws him into the corner.

“Do not move,” Derek says. “Stay away from the window. Stay quiet.”

Stiles nods. “I’ll stay here.”

“Do not come out for anyone,” Derek growls. “No one.”

“Yes, all right. I won’t.”

“Good.” Derek lets him go. “Hopefully we’ll end this fast.

Stiles isn’t sure where to hide himself. He doesn’t know which part of the cabin is safe. None of it is safe if they manage to board, if they kill Derek. 

They won’t kill Derek. They can’t. The Sea Wolf doesn’t die in some half assed attack. That’s not how it ends. Three days into Stiles’s capture. It doesn’t end like this. 

He ends up wedged next to the chest of drawers, bracing himself every time the boat rocked with canon fire, closing his eyes at every shriek and scream and roar. He hates this. He wanted adventure and to get away but he never wanted this. This is so much worse than he could have ever imagined.

And he’s worried. He’s so worried about Derek. It seems cruel to see him after all these years, to be hated by him, and then to lose him again.

The sun is rising by the time the shouting dies down. Stiles ventures a look at the window to see that they’re moving away from the other ship. The other ship that’s just a smoking pile of wreckage in the ocean.

He doesn’t stand. He’s not sure his legs can do it. And he doesn’t want to move until Derek tells him he can. He’s not sure if Derek is still there. If the ship was taken by the other pirates and they’re leaving their ship behind.

But, the door flies open and Derek stumbles inside, clutching his side, hands covered in blood. His face is shifted, snarling, but it’s wrong. Like he’s stuck between werewolf and human. Like he can’t control it. 

Stiles jumps to his feet, stumbling at the sudden rush of blood to his toes.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, trying to grab Derek’s hands. 

Derek growls and bears his teeth, but Stiles just rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Stiles says. “Let me look at it.” 

“Are you a surgeon?” Derek asks, breathless. 

“Is anyone on here a surgeon. Jesus Christ. Is it over?” 

Derek nods, his eyes flutter shut. “It’s over.” 

He steers Derek over to the bed and Derek collapses down into it on his back. Stiles pulls his hands away. His hands are covering a chunk of wood, sticking out of his abdomen. 

Stiles takes a deep breath through his mouth. 

Derek looks down, lets out a groan, and faints. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for leaving kudos and comments I love it more than anything! 
> 
> If you have a moment please consider sending me a cup of [coffee](https://ko-fi.com/planiforidjit). And like, who knows, maybe if I have more coffee I'll write more and also like could take requests or something? Maybe?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever say that this takes place in Atlantic Canada? Because it does now. I changed it from the Caribbean mostly because I wanted it to be cold and also I’ve been to Canada so at least I know what it looks like. 
> 
> Also thank you so much for commenting and kudos-ing and normally I reply to every comment, but I got really backed up on them and now it’s a lot. But I really, really appreciate them and love them!

Derek drifts in and out of consciousness. He knows that at some point Stiles leans over him and say something. And then Boyd’s face swims into view. There’s pain and confusion and the ship rocks back and forth.

“It’s going to be all right,” he hears Stiles say as if under water. “Boyd is taking care of you. We’re here.”

It shouldn’t be a comfort to hear those words from Stiles. He barely knows Stiles now. Stiles is his captor and whatever Derek is feeling about him is dangerous.

Boyd tips something into Derek’s mouth and everything goes black.

—

When Derek comes to there’s barely any pain, his mind is clear, and the world seems quiet around him. Afternoon sun is streaming through his window and he struggles to sit up, sending soreness through his abdomen, but nothing more than that.

“Don’t do that!” Stiles’s voice startles him as much as Stiles’s hand pressing him back down into the bed do. Derek looks up into his face and finds worry etched across his features. “I’ll go get Boyd.”

“I’m fine,” Derek grunts.

“You were impaled,” Stiles says, not taking his hands from Derek’s chest. “I’m going to get Boyd.”

“You aren’t to leave this cabin.”

“It’s too late for that, Captain.” Stiles gives him a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Derek tries to protest, but Stiles gets up and disappears through the door leading to the deck. He doesn’t know how long he was out or what happened, but Stiles being so comfortable with leaving means that something must have changed. He wouldn’t be surprised if somehow Stiles had become captain of the ship in his absence.

Stiles was always able to get his way, even when he was a toddler. No one ever said no to him. Not even Derek.

Derek lays back down in his bed and sighs. He feels like he was beaten. He lifts up the sheets to examine his stomach and finds that he’s been wrapped up with bandages, stained with blood.

The door opens again and Boyd comes in, followed closely by Stiles, who hovers over him as Boyd sits down by the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Boyd asks.

“Awful. How long have I been out?”

“Nearly a day,” says Boyd. “I’m going to check your wound. Don’t get angry.”

“Why would I be angry?”

Stiles snorts. “You’ll see.”

Boyd cuts open the bandages on Derek’s stomach and reveals that his skin was sloppily stitched together, made even worse by the way his body healed around the sutures. His skin is black and purple with bruises.

“What did you do?” Derek asks, unable to gather the energy to yell.

“You weren’t healing,” Boyd says. He sighs. “We need to speak in private.”

Both Derek and Boyd look to Stiles who startles. “Oh, you mean you don’t want me here.

“Go see if Isaac needs help,” Derek snaps.

“Got it.” Stiles gives him a salute and scurries from the cabin, shutting the door behind him.

Derek knows the answer, but he can’t help asking, “Why wasn’t I healing?”

“Your suppressants are making you weak,” Boyd says, snipping away at the sutures, pulling them out of Derek’s healed skin. “You aren’t healing as quickly because of them.”

For the most part his crew is loyal to him, they like him and he likes them, some of them he would even go so far as to say they love him and he loves them. But he’s only trusted Boyd with his secret. He’s an omega and if anyone knew he wouldn’t be taken seriously, he would be taken advantage of, he’d be killed.

Boyd helped him when he first left Beacon, he concocted a suppressant that Derek has continued to take since they met. To anyone else he gave off no scent, he was a beta who acted like an alpha, possibly an alpha who wasn’t as strong. It helped him survive.

Boyd sighs and pulls the last suture from Derek’s skin, wiping away the blood. “I think it will only get worse. Until it kills you.”

Derek sits with some difficulty. “I can’t—”

“You’ll die, Derek. You have to stop taking it.”

“If I stop taking it then I will die.”

Boyd stands. “You should talk to Stilinski about it.”

“Why would I talk to him about it?”

“Because he’s the only other person who knows what you are.” Boyd strides to the door. “Do you want me to send Isaac down with some food?”

Derek shakes his head. “No. I’ll join you for dinner later.”

Boyd leaves and Derek waits for Stiles to come back, but he doesn’t. Derek is left alone to figure out the way he’s going to die.

If he wanted to he could leave all of it behind. He could move to an island or a mountain, somewhere secluded like he always wanted, stop taking his suppressants and ride out his heats alone. He’d be safe until someone found him and he’d be strong enough to defend himself from two or three people, but not more than that. And even then, there would be the crown looking to arrest and imprison the Sea Wolf, hang him.

Derek doesn’t know what version of this ends with him living happily ever after. And he never expected it to.

—

“We’ll be in Siren’s Cove tomorrow evening,” Derek says to his crew as they’re finishing dinner.

His crew _and_ Stiles he reminds himself because Stiles has weaseled his way in there. He’s sitting between Isaac and Danny—Isaac is actually smiling at whatever Stiles keeps saying and Danny laughed out loud once and even Boyd looked amused.

It alternately warms his heart and sets his blood boiling. How dare Stiles come in and fit himself into his crew so easily? How dare Stiles go from prisoner to friend in the course of two days.

Derek continues. “We’ll lay low and wait for Liam and Mason to return with news. We’re there to help Lady Lydia and her crew maybe in exchange for some help of our own.”

There’s a murmur of agreement throughout the crew. Derek knows that they’re not going to love sitting still for a few weeks, but Siren’s Cove is fun. There’s enough debauchery—whores and gambling and pubs—to keep them entertained for the first week at least and then they’ll be able to spend time repairing damage to the ship.

Stiles taps a finger on the table. “How many ships are there in Siren’s Cove?”

Derek exchanges a look with Boyd. “At any given moment about twenty.”

“Full crews?”

“Yes. The Huntress has control, but it’s a haven for pirates and werewolves.”

“The Huntress is Lady Lydia’s ship?” Stiles asks and Derek nods.

“Why do you need to know?” Isaac asks, but he’s still smiling, like he can’t wait to hear why Stiles needs to know.

“I think that instead of ransoming me, you should try to take Beacon. If you can get their help. It’s small, all you need to do is take down the Argents and you could have control. My father would still govern for you. You could take it from the crown, you know, set it up as a place to be free.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Derek says even before he considers what Stiles is saying.

“I thought that you were pirates, but I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

Isaac hides a small laugh behind his hand.

If Stiles was anyone else—a bargaining chip, income, possibly a caretaker and old friend—Derek would kill him. Maim him if he didn’t want to kill someone. It wouldn’t take anything to rip out Stiles’s throat. A quick swipe of a claw. He’d ruin the table, his clothes, the clothes of most of his crew, and the perfect pale skin of Stiles’s throat. But it would be satisfying for a few seconds at least.

Derek manages a, “Get out,” through clenched teeth. “Back to the cabin.”

Stiles doesn’t move.

Derek roars. “Now!”

Stiles jumps up and shoots Derek a glare before heading out, grabbing a piece of bread as he goes. He’s not nearly scared enough. Derek will make sure Stiles knows how scared he should be.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Danny mumbles after Stiles is gone.

“Lord Stilinski is not part of the crew. He doesn’t make decisions for us.” Derek says and sweeps out of the room.

He takes a moment outside his cabin to get angrier. He tells himself that he needs to show Stiles that he’s in charge. Stiles can’t talk back to him just because he knows him.

Stiles is standing right behind the door when Derek opens it. Heshoves Stiles against the wall of the cabin. “You don’t tell me what to do in front of my crew. You don’t tell me what to do period.”

“I’m just trying to do something instead of you just sailing around doing nothing. Waiting to die!”

Derek growls. “You don’t know anything about what we do.”

“I know enough. And I know you’re not going to survive. I know that something is happening to you! Boyd was worried. I’m not an idiot.”

“Are you sure?”

Stiles shoves at Derek hard enough that Derek stumbles back. He stomps up to Derek and pushes him against the opposite wall. “You aren’t going to do anyone any good if you’re dead. I’m just trying to make a difference here. It’s more than you’re doing.”

They’re so close. Closer now that Stiles is the one doing the pushing and the manhandling. How did Stiles get so strong? What has he been doing that he’s able to press Derek back into the hard wood?

It’s not hard to miss the way Stiles’s eyes flick down to Derek’s lips.

Derek ignores the arousal sending waves into his gut and juts his chin out at Stiles.

“You don’t know anything about what I’m doing. You should be thanking every god you know that I haven’t killed you already. I let you join my crew for dinner! You spoiled, rich—”

Stiles cuts him off with a snarl and finally— _finally—_ a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: so much fucking sex, it's honestly disgusting. So many bodily fluids. 
> 
> Also, if you wanted to buy me a cup of coffee [here](https://ko-fi.com/planiforidjit) I'd really appreciate it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm reading a lot of Cat Sebastian right now, so this is why it's like actually kind of sweet? 
> 
> Anyway, here, have some sex.

Stiles crushes his lips against Derek’s pushing him harder against the wall. Derek jerks away from him. 

“What are you doing?” he growls.

Stiles growls right back. “This.”

Stiles’s mouth descends upon his again and Derek doesn’t push him away this time. He scratches his fingers into Stiles’s hair and Stiles does the same to him, pulling him closer and closer, opening his mouth with his tongue like he wants to crawl inside him.

Derek had never thought about Stiles like this before they were reintroduced. Stiles was a child when Derek left, a little lord he was fond of, occasionally loved, but he had no idea. Then Stiles showed up on his ship all broad shouldered with a smart mouth.

And it’s been so long since Derek trusted anyone enough to accept so much as a kiss. Stiles knows Derek, he may judge him for becoming a pirate, but he’d never judge him for what he is. Stiles doesn’t care about that. If he did he would have told the crew. He would have fought harder against him while they ate dinner.

Stiles’s hand finds the back of Derek’s neck and squeezes. Derek moans against his mouth, back arching, pressing himself to Stiles. He’s already hard, it doesn’t take much. And he knows that soon enough he’ll be wet enough for Stiles.

The suppressants may be able to mask his scent, but they don’t change how his body reacts.

“I know what you want,” Stiles says, kissing down Derek’s neck, dropping to his knees in front of him. Derek shudders as Stiles works at the stays on his pants, pressing his face to Derek’s hard cock through the fabric. “Fuck, you smell so good, Derek. Tell me I can suck you off.”

“You can,” Derek gasps.

Stiles removes Derek’s boots tenderly, pressing kisses to his calves and ankles as he goes. Then he pulls down Derek’s pants the rest of the way and pulls them over Derek’s feet.

Derek tips his head back against the wall as Stiles’s presses a quick kiss to his cock before sucking him into his mouth.

It’s been so long since anyone had been near Derek’s cock that he doesn’t know what to do. And Stiles must be able to tell because he pulls off and says, “Put your hands in my hair.” 

Derek tangles his fingers into Stiles’s short hair and gives himself over to it. Stiles knows exactly what he’s doing, hollowing his cheeks, his hand coming forward to cup Derek’s balls, travelling backward to where he’s wet, so embarrassingly wet already. 

It’s over too fast. Stiles’s finger presses into him and Derek comes like a shot. Too fast to warn Stiles, but it doesn’t matter. Stiles is ready. He swallows him down and then pulls off, panting. He rests his head on Derek’s thigh and Derek cards his fingers through his hair. 

“I just need a moment,” Stiles says. 

Derek cups Stiles’s jaw, barely stubbled after days of not shaving, and tips his head back. There’s come at the corner of his mouth and Derek swipes at it with his thumb. Stiles gives him a sly smile and laps at it. 

“Jesus,” Derek says. “You’re depraved.” 

“I know.” Stiles sucks Derek’s thumb into his mouth. “Can I fuck you?” 

Derek hesitates. It’s one thing to let Stiles suck him off, maybe put a finger in his ass. It’s another to let Stiles fuck him. He’s spent so much time bucking the roles thrust upon him he’s not sure he’ll be able to give in to it. 

Stiles seems to understand. He stands up and bumps his nose against Derek’s. He toys with the bottom of his shirt. 

“I don’t mind if you say no,” Stiles says. “And I don’t mind if you tell me to stop. I’m not one of those alphas. I’m not going to use it as an excuse. I can always stop myself. You can even be the alpha if you want. I just want you. I’ve wanted you since I knew what it was to want someone.” 

Derek sucks in a breath. “You weren’t old enough when I left.” 

Stiles shakes his head. “No, but I missed you and missing you turned into longing for you.” 

Derek doesn’t know what to say to that and he’s worried whatever he does say will expose him, leave his heart on display for Stiles in a way he’s not ready for yet. 

So he kisses him again. This time soft, taking the time to taste him, learn his lips and teeth and tongue. He can feel Stiles hard against his thigh and Derek can’t help rolling his body against him. 

Stiles lets out a laugh. “Christ.” 

“You can be the Alpha,” Derek says and Stiles pulls away, a weekend gleam in his eye. “Just for this.” 

Stiles pulls Derek’s shirt up over his head. “Get on the bed. Hands and knees.” 

Derek’s heart thuds against his chest. But he does what Stiles’s says, going to his bed and getting on his hands and knees, exposing all of himself to Stiles, who lets out a moan so loud it’s a miracle they’re not alerting the navy to their presence. 

“Look at you,” Stiles says. Derek can hear him removing his clothes, the telltale rustle of fabric as Stiles crosses the small room. “You’re so perfect, Derek.” His hand touches Derek’s ass and Stiles presses a kiss to the small of his back. “Just say no and I’ll stop.” 

“If I tell you to keep going will you start?” 

Stiles lets out a loud laugh at that, leans down, and buries his face in Derek’s ass. 

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” Stiles says. “Shit.” 

Derek makes a noise he knows he should be embarrassed by but he’s not. 

“How long since someone fucked you?” Stiles asks, mouth filthy like Derek could have never imagined. 

“It’s been so long,” Derek says. “Can’t let anyone do it. Gotta pretend to be an alpha.” 

“But you’re not,” Stiles says, pressing his hand to the  back of Derek’s neck and Derek whines. 

Derek pushes back, tries to pull Stiles’ fingers deeper, fuck himself on them. 

“Tell me what you are,” Stiles says, pulling his fingers from Derek, running them over his rim. 

“Fuck me,” Derek grounds out. 

“Not until you tell me what you are.” 

Derek struggles to get Stiles over so he can ride him. He needs to be filled. He hasn’t felt this desperate for it ever. 

Stiles keeps his hand on the back of his neck, leans forward and bites his ear. “Say it.” 

“Omega,” Derek gasps. “I’m an omega.” 

“And what am I?” 

“Alpha. Please. Fuck me, Alpha.” 

Stiles presses a surprisingly tender kiss to Derek’s shoulder, lines his cock up with Derek’s hole and then fucks in deep, Derek bites off a scream into his pillow and Stiles grins, fucks him harder. 

“Don’t let them hear you,” Stiles says. “Don’t want them to know the Sea Wolf is on his knees, begging for it.” 

“Give me something to be loud about,” Derek bites off. 

Stiles lets out a choked-off laugh. “Oh, Christ. You want me to fuck you harder, omega?” 

“Yes, Alpha,” Derek sighs. “It’s been so long.” 

Stiles snaps his hips forward and pushes his fingers into Derek’s hair. He yanks his head back and gets close to the side of his face, pressed a filthy kiss to his cheek. 

“You just wanted to get fucked. Waited for years for someone to come here and fuck you like you need.” 

Derek’s whole body shudders and he can feel it. He’s going to come. He’s so wet and he’s going to come so much. It’s going to destroy his bed. He agrees with Stiles, mumbles something, begs for something else. He’s so far gone it’s just him and Stiles splitting him open, jerking his body with each sharp thrust.  

“I’ve wanted this since they threw me at your feet,” Stiles says like it’s dirty. “Bet you wanted me too. Bet you knew that I could be the alpha you needed the second you saw me. You’ve been dying for it.” He pauses, pressing in and staying there for a few seconds. “Fuck, Derek. Shit—shit. I’m going to—”

Stiles pulls out and flips Derek onto his back. Derek watches, mouth open and panting as Stiles knots his own hand and comes all over Derek’s stomach. All Derek can do as watch, he isn’t sure he can even move. He loves it, loves the feel of it, the smell of it. 

“Come on me,” Stiles says after his last spasm. “So we smell like each other. So they don’t think I claimed you.”  

Derek can barely form words. He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to move. “I’m—” 

“I’ve got you.” Stiles’ face goes soft like Derek being so fucked he can’t move is the cutest thing in the world. He stroke’s Derek’s cock loosely, gently. He murmurs, the wild alpha from just a few minutes ago gone and replaced with someone soft and sweet. “Look how good you are. You look so good, smell so good. I can’t wait to see you come. You’ll do that won’t you? You’ll come for me?” 

Derek’s hips move up in tiny thrusts, pushing up into Stiles’ hands. “I’m close. Jesus.” 

Stiles leans over him, kisses him, tightens his hand a little to make Derek gasp. 

“You’re perfect, so handsome. You have no idea how attracted I am to you. You don’t know how much I’ve wanted you. How much I want to smell like both of us, how good that’s going to be. Come on me, Derek.” 

Derek gasps, finally, his come stripes Stiles’s stomach, gets caught in the hair under his bellybutton and at the base of his cock. Stiles kisses him again and then collapses to his side in the bed. He runs his fingers through Derek’s hair, kisses his cheek. 

Derek wants to ask him how he manages to go from depraved to sweet so quickly. And why does Derek like it so much? 

“You didn’t knot me,” Derek says eventually, shifting against Stiles’s still hard cock.  

Stiles shivers and closes his eyes. “You didn’t say I could.” 

“Not everyone waits for permission.” 

“Well I do. And anyway, I didn’t want you to be attached to me if your crew needed you.” 

Derek nods. “Thank you.” 

“Hey, we’re practically friends now.” 

“You’re my prisoner.” 

“Your prisoner who fucked you so good you couldn’t speak.” 

Derek puts his arm over his eyes. “I can’t get up. Go get a towel to clean us up.” 

Stiles is silent, but Derek feels him get out of the bed, hears him pad across the floors to the washing jug and towel. And then there’s a cool, wet cloth on his stomach, cleaning him up. 

When he’s done, Derek peeks at him, standing there, knot gone down slightly, but still visible. He looks lost. Stiles  _longed_ for him. 

Derek sighs. “You can sleep with me.” 

“Thank god.” 

Stiles falls into the bed next to him. He cuddles up next to Derek and puts his head on his chest. Derek should push him away, but he likes sleeping with his arm around someone. It’s comforting. That’s all. 

“Go to sleep,” Derek says. 

“Of course, Captain.” Stiles pauses. “Alpha.” 

Derek shivers, but doesn’t say anything. He really likes that. And maybe Stiles is a person he can make understand that sometimes he is an omega and he wants to be fucked and knotted and doted upon, but other times he’s an alpha and he wants to keep Stiles wrapped up in his arms, protect him, take care of him. Maybe Stiles can tell without him saying anything. 

Stiles is his prisoner, he reminds himself. Stiles isn’t anything more than that. 

— 

Stiles wakes up warm for the first time in days. There is a brief moment where he forgets where he is. He could be home. Waiting for a servant to come in and stoke the fire, bring him coffee. He’d head downstairs and find his father at the breakfast table, reading his correspondence. 

“Why are you smiling?” Derek asks like he’s accusing Stiles of something. 

Stiles opens his eyes slowly. Derek is sitting up on the side of the bed, fully dressed. He has a hand close to Stiles but not touching him. 

Stiles reaches out for him, but Derek pulls his hand away. He doesn’t look Stiles in the eye. 

“I was thinking about coffee,” Stiles says. He sits up and brings the blankets with him. He doesn’t like being naked when Derek is fully clothed. It makes him feel like they did something wrong. “How long have you been awake?” 

“A while.” 

“You should have—”

“I’ll have Isaac bring you coffee. Get dressed.” 

Stiles didn’t expect that he would wake up and he and Derek would be doting lovers. But he thought that it would be nicer than this—warmer.

Maybe he’s just the means to an end for Derek. He’s the only one who knows his secret. He’s the only one that can help him. 

It was naive of Stiles to think it was more than that. 

Stiles nods. “I’ll get dressed once you leave.” 

“Good.” Derek stands and affixes his sword and pistol to his belt. “Stay here.” 

“Really?” Stiles asks. “But the last day and a half—”

“You aren’t part of the crew. You’re our prisoner and you’ll behave like one.” 

“Do you bed all your prisoners?” Stiles asks and he immediately regrets it at the way Derek tenses even further. He means for it to come out light. Like he didn’t mind that he was being used as a tool he just wanted to let Derek know he could be kinder.  

Derek turns away. “Don’t leave.” 

“Derek, I—stay with me.” 

Derek pauses, his hand on the door. Stiles wishes he would drop it and come back and kiss him. He wants to kiss him again so badly. Now that he’s been allowed to once it’s all he wants. 

But Derek just shakes his head and leaves, slamming the door behind himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for reading and leaving kudos. If you want to buy me a cup of coffee [here](https://ko-fi.com/planiforidjit) I'd really appreciate it! I love you!


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